


Two To Tango

by waywardrose



Series: My Baby Just Cares for Me [6]
Category: Saturday Night Live
Genre: 1950s, Euphemisms, F/M, First Time, Fluff, No vintage racism, Non-traditional jewish wedding, Old-Fashioned living arrangements, Period Typical Attitudes, Sheltered-artist reader, Stand Alone, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose/pseuds/waywardrose
Summary: You sat at the bistro table tucked in the corner of the pasticceria. Abe sat across from you, tiny plates of bite-sized cake on the table between you.
Relationships: Abraham H. Parnassus/You
Series: My Baby Just Cares for Me [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484900
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Two To Tango

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Punk_in_Docs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_in_Docs/gifts).



> Anonymous said: After reading your ficlet I have a question (not necessarily a prompt — although who’d complain about you writing more content??) but do you think that right up to their wedding encounters like that in It’s Magic between Abe & his girlfriend/bride would continue? Like a year or so later they could be choosing wedding music and she’s antsy so she suggests he “helps” her (wink wink), or she simply wants to do it again and brings it up one afternoon... tbh they’re both horny so I think they would🤣
> 
> punk-in-docs said {1/2]: Ok. This isn’t so much an ask as just a very naughty thought - please hear me out. After the events of your gorgeous It’s Magic one-shot. Am I the only one whose dying to know about Abe/Readers Wedding Night!? Is that just me? 💕❤️🥰 love you millions dear one.
> 
> [2/2] Ok. I did have a prompt. And I thought; I know just the gal to write it... Young!Abe on his wedding night with reader... I can only imagine what glorious naughty smutty imagery you could do with that 💕❤️❣️ love your work. I am your crazed fan after all
> 
> WR: Love you both for offering these ideas! Prepare thyself for _softness_. I filled this just in time for a spring wedding, too! 😉 Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -
> 
> **Chuppah** \- a canopy beneath which Jewish marriage ceremonies are performed
> 
> **Yichud** \- a room where the bride and groom adjourn after the marriage ceremony (or reception) to spend at least eight minutes alone

You sat at the bistro table tucked in the corner of the pasticceria. Abe sat across from you, tiny plates of bite-sized cake on the table between you. With a clipboard on your lap, you wrote Ys next to the flavors of cake you both preferred. So far, you both liked orange chiffon and pink champagne. The chocolate, while delicious, was too heavy; the white vanilla too boring.

"I want something with raspberries," he stated.

You replied, "The champagne would go with raspberry."

"Or perhaps we should have more than one dessert?"

You smiled, knowing what he was getting at. "You just want sufganiyot."

He'd been talking about them since Hanukkah ended months ago. His mother wouldn't make them outside of December, and you didn't know how. He said the goyish jelly-filled doughnuts weren't the same. And they weren't.

"Well, my darling," he said as he got this look in his eyes. "You know how I yearn for filled sweets."

Your face heated for the nth time this afternoon. He was incorrigible. It was the same when you two had gone over the song list for the reception band. He had insisted on dancing in his apartment's living room as Pearl Bailey's "Takes Two To Tango" played. He'd held you close enough that your breasts had pressed against his chest. His thigh had been between yours. The hand on your lower back had snuck down to hold your rear.

You'd drawn his hand back to your waist, and he'd pouted with some amusement. You were only permitted to be alone at his place because you were engaged. You certainly couldn't return to your parents' house looking all hot and bothered.

Though your mother hadn't noticed the wrinkles in your dress from where Abe had laid you on the sofa. He'd gotten between your legs, kissing and fondling you. He'd ground his hips against yours. The unmistakable ridge of his manhood rubbed over your damp underwear.

All he'd had to do was unzip his trousers and pull your underwear aside...

The obscene thought had had you rocking with him and kissing him. He'd moaned against your lips before asking if he could touch you.

You'd known exactly what he'd meant. The pleasure he gave you was addictive. It made you want to reciprocate, though you barely knew what to do.

That afternoon he'd thrust against your open thighs as he stoked between your legs. He'd blushed and panted and called you every sweet thing he could come up with. Then he'd gone silent with gasps.

You'd figured he'd had to have been close. You were, and you wanted him to feel good with you. You ran your hands down his back. Feeling bold, you'd clutched at his rutting hips and pulled at them.

His breath had stuttered in your ear. Then he'd groaned as his hips faltered and chest heaved. The fingers between your legs had stilled, and the hot ridge of his manhood pulsed.

You'd stared at the plain ceiling beyond his shoulder as you realized he'd just climaxed. He'd never done that in front of you before.

You'd trailed kisses up his neck as you soothed him. He sagged over you and leaned his damp forehead on your shoulder. He'd murmured apologies as he caught his breath. You didn't know what he was sorry for, so you shushed him.

"Did you...?" he asked.

You shook your head as you petted his back. "It's okay," you whispered, because it hadn't mattered to you.

But it had mattered to him, apparently. He put pressure on that petite bundle of nerves between your legs as he stroked and stroked until you had to bury your face to muffle your cries of ecstasy.

He'd kissed you after and had given you the same look he was giving you now.

You held up a finger. "Please focus, Mr. Parnassus."

He tsked before saying, "Such a slave-driver, Mrs. Parnassus."

"I'm not Mrs. Parnassus yet, and I won't be if we don't pick a flavor."

"How about _pound_ cake?"

"Abe!" you laughed in shock, feeling your cheeks warm anew.

He smiled and offered his hand. You put your fork down to slide your palm onto his.

"Apologies, my love. You're very distracting," he said and punctuated the excuse with a kiss to the back of your hand.

Mollified, you said, "How about the pink champagne with raspberry filling and vanilla frosting?"

"Perfect."

You grinned, relieved the last decision was settled. "I know it's not sufganiyot, but would you like to get a mini raspberry tart to go?"

"Would we be enjoying said raspberry tart at my apartment?"

It was hours before you had to be home. You liked the thought of kissing the sharp flavor of raspberry off his lips. It was indecent, though. You never had these types of thoughts about anyone until Abe.

"If you wish," you answered.

"Oh, I most definitely wish it, my love."

* * *

You darted down the red-carpeted stairs of The Plaza with Abe. The wedding guests flooded through the doors behind you, laughing and cheering. Overhead, the awning lights above the main entrance glowed golden and bright.

The chauffeur opened the passenger door of the black Bentley parked at the curb. You thanked him as you bent inside. You tucked your bustled dress and long veil around you to give Abe room. It was like being surrounded by a heavy, hot cloud. The large crinoline crinkled under you. While you'd loved the dress this morning, you were now tired of fighting with it.

You didn't know why you'd let your mother talk you into a big gown. Tea-length would've been just as lovely. However, she had kept saying, "But it's _The Plaza!"_

The one consolation was that it had photographed well against the floral pseudo-chuppah. Abe hadn't wanted a traditional ceremony, which suited you just fine, but he had been talked into some traditional motifs by his mother. Funny enough, he had agreed to a yichud room with no complaints.

When the two of you were secluded in the room, he'd backed you against the dining table and kissed you. The snack to break your fast had been quickly forgotten. He held your waist, pressing his front to yours. At first, you'd wanted to protest, because people were right outside the door, but he was your husband now. He was supposed to kiss you and love you. No one expected any less—even though the yichud was to be used for snacking and exchanging gifts.

However, his kisses were gift enough.

Abe climbed into the car after you, heedless of wrinkling the tails of his tuxedo. The door shut behind him, and you both waved to the swarm of people on the stairs. They clamored closer with smiles and waving hands.

As the car pulled away from the hotel, Abe scooted closer. You felt him pat at the fabric surrounding you.

"Where are you in there, dear wife?"

You laughed and relaxed in the seat. "I don't know!"

You drew your hand from under all the fabric and offered it. Abe engulfed it in both of his to bring it to his lips. You smiled at the gesture, feeling warmth radiate from your heart. He'd been kissing you all day. He'd barely stepped away from your side.

Together, you'd talked to guests—all two hundred of them. Or it felt like you'd talked to that many people. You'd met his business associates, colleagues, extended family, school friends, and all their plus-ones.

He asked, "Did you have a good time, my love?"

You turned to look at him, but your veil obscured half your view.

"Yes, but let's not get married again."

"I don't plan on it."

You grinned and sighed, happy to watch the evening city streets. Then you noticed something odd: the car was headed in the wrong direction. You gave his hand a squeeze to get his attention. He made a curious sound and turned to you.

"Honey?" you whispered as you leaned in. "Did you give the driver the right address?"

You had agreed to spend the first few days of the honeymoon at his apartment—now yours, too—before heading to Florence, Italy.

"Oh yes, he has the correct address."

You frowned in confusion, but Abe gave you a reassuring grin that bordered on sneaky. You suspected he was up to something. He did love his surprises. You wondered if you were headed to another hotel or maybe beginning the travel early.

When the car turned onto a quiet number street, your frown deepened. Trees spanned above to block the purpling sky. Brownstone townhouses sat sedate behind black iron gates. Flowers and ivy dripped from planters and stone urns. The sidewalks were free of rubbish or fallen leaves. The brass house numbers gleamed.

What were you doing here?

The car stopped in front of one of the squatter townhouses. The small plot of land beside the gracious front steps was bare. The porch light was on, though. The palladian windows on the first floor were lit, too. You could see a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"Abraham..." you said as you watched the chauffeur hurry around the car to open the curb-side door.

Abe stepped out without replying and held his hand to you. You scooted across the seat, took his hand, and maneuvered out of the car. One-handed, you smoothed the skirt as well as you could. The satin and the appliques on the tulle overskirt were wrinkled beyond what you could manage.

He curled an arm behind your back and led you to the closed gate.

You softly asked, "What's going on?"

"My yichud gift to you, my darling."

He riffled through a trouser pocket before presenting a door key in his open palm. You stared at the key in disbelief. He was giving you a house. It made the antique stickpin you'd gotten him paltry in comparison.

You didn't know what you'd done to deserve this. You minutely shook your head. It was too much. This day was too much. From the lovely suite to get ready in, to your dress, to the flowers and cake. You didn't know how anything would ever compare to this. And it was all because of Abe.

You looked up at him as a tear cascaded down your cheek. His face went from satisfied to panicked. He hugged you, gently shushing you.

"I'll get you another one—a bigger one," he whispered. "Anything you like."

You shook your head. "No!" You held his face in your hands. "It's perfect."

He sagged, and you drew him in for a kiss. He stilled for a second before tightening his hold and kissing you back. You hoped it wasn't offensive to kiss like this in front of the neighborhood, but you needed him. Then you remembered the chauffeur was waiting with your bags. 

You broke the kiss to murmur, "Thank you."

"Anything for you, my darling wife."

Abe gave you the key and swept you into his arms. You clung to him with a laugh, gathering your veil so he wouldn't trip on it. He rushed up the stairs and bent a little so you could unlock the door. He also had you open the vestibule door, too.

Once in the foyer, you told him he could put you down. You were beyond the threshold now. He barked out a laugh and spun you into the big double parlor right off the foyer. You squeaked, holding on until he slowed.

"I may not put you down all night," he declared.

"Not even to sleep?"

He smirked as his eyes smoldered. "I don't plan on sleeping."

You ducked your blazing face, and he kissed your temple.

Behind him, the chauffeur cleared his throat. You stiffened and wanted to disappear. You hoped he hadn't heard your husband's salacious words. Abe wheeled around with you still in his arms and thanked the chauffeur. Your bags sat by the carved newel post.

The chauffeur congratulated you both and bid a good night, closing the doors after himself.

Now that you were alone, Abe gently set you on your feet. You looked around to see his sofa at the back of the room. His record-player stand stood nearby and miscellaneous picture frames filed against the wall. The chair from your bedroom sat next to the sofa, looking dwarfed by the huge space.

"Why..." you began as you turned to him. "How...?"

"I had everything moved today."

"What about your apartment?"

"Like I would let you live in that hovel."

You frowned. "It was a nice place."

It had a newer, private bathroom and a deep fire escape outside the two tall windows. No, it didn't have much of a kitchen nor a view, but it was good. The neighbors were quiet, and you liked the painted brick wall. It was as nice as your parents' home in Brooklyn.

"Not for you," he retorted and offered his hand. "Let's go upstairs."

Upstairs meant privacy and bedrooms. Bedrooms meant beds. Beds meant sex. Sex he wanted all night.

A shiver went up your spine. You felt jittery. You knew your hands had started shaking. It wasn't that you didn't want him. You did. You welcomed his touch and wanted to touch him in return. You'd said yes to being his wife, knowing and enjoying how he wanted you.

You asked, "What about the rest of this floor?"

"Would you like a tour then, darling?"

You nodded, taking his hand. He was merciful and didn't comment on your trembling hands.

He led you through the first floor, showing you the spacious dining room and kitchen at the back of the house. Everything had been restored or updated. The ceilings had to be at least ten feet above the inlaid wood floors. The tiles in the vestibule were original, he mentioned, as were the chandeliers.

There was a terrace off the kitchen stairs that was surrounded by a walled garden. You wanted to populate the garden with flowers and art. You could envision sculptures and a little fountain bubbling away. Maybe you could get water lilies for the fountain.

Abe placed a hand at the small of your back. "Ready for more?"

Your nerves had calmed. Now you were just overwhelmed by the responsibility of homeownership and decorating and adjusting to married life with Abe. Would you be hosting parties? Were you a socialite now?

Could you still pursue your art?

You didn't know if it would be permitted. Some of your school friends had given up everything when they'd married. You felt like a fool for not having broached the topic earlier. However, Abe didn't seem the restrictive type. You hadn't thought it would be a problem to make things, even small things, but now seeing this house, you had doubts.

You tried to school your face before facing him. You grinned with a nod, but Abe frowned.

"What's troubling you?" he asked.

"Nothing, sweetheart! Show me the second floor."

He offered his hand again and walked with you through the darkening first floor to the foyer stairs.

He paused on the first step to ask, "Are you sure everything's well?"

"Yes, of course!" You gave his hand a squeeze. "I love this. I love _you._ Thank you!"

His face softened. "I love you, too." He bent to kiss you, though he kept it brief. "I want to show you something." He grinned. "I think you'll like it."

Before you could reply, he pulled you up the stairs. The tails of his black jacket flapped behind him. He glanced back midway, looking as giddy as a schoolboy. His excitement was infectious. You smiled and hiked your dress a bit higher to keep up with him.

He marched around the second-floor stair rail and passed door after door. He stopped in front of a set of closed pocket doors at the back of the house. You reached to slide back one of the doors, but he stopped you.

"Close your eyes," he ordered.

You huffed a laugh through your nose. Abraham and his surprises. You closed your eyes, and he let go of your hand. Then came the wooden rumble of the doors rolling back. Abe shuffled around you, put his hands on your shoulders to guide you, and murmured for you to turn.

You pivoted to face the open doorway. "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Yes, darling."

The room in front of you took almost the full width of the house. The back wall was nothing but windows. The floor was tile. It must be a type of sunroom. Even with a purple-pink-orange twilight taking over the sky, there was still plenty of light to see.

"I bought this house for this room," he softly said.

"I can see why. It's lovely."

"Almost as lovely as who it's for."

You blinked and realized he meant it for you. This whole room was _yours._

He asked, "Do you approve?"

You put a hand on your tight chest and nodded. _This was yours._ You could do whatever you wanted with the room. The first thought was studio. It would be a studio.

You stepped into the room, imagining a long workbench to the side. There was a spigot over there, too. A sink would be nice on that wall. Maybe you could set up a pottery wheel over there instead with the workbench on the opposite wall. You mentally pointed out you'd need a kiln then, but you could sort that out later.

In the middle, would be open for bigger projects. You'd need shelves and racks and storage—

"Mrs. Parnassus?"

You startled and turned to Abe, seeing him amused. Apparently, he'd been trailing behind you as you sorted through your ideas.

"Will this do?"

You laughed and ran to him. _Would this do?_ What a silly question from such a smart man. He'd just given you the best gift you've ever received. You practically tackled him with a hug. He let out a delighted _"oof"_ before holding you tight and swinging you around.

You laughed and held onto him. You laughed and laughed until your vision blurred and face went hot.

He laughed with you until he let you slide down his body. He held your sides and stared at you with such a soft expression. His bourbon-brown eyes glowed gold in the twilight. His white bowtie was crooked now, the red carnation on his lapel worse for wear, but he was still striking.

You rose on tip-toe to kiss him, and he met you in the middle. His lips were soft, his kiss strong. He kissed your mouth open to tease your tongue with his. His hands pulled you close and caught on your veil, pulling your hair.

You leaned back, and Abe moved with you until he realized what you were doing. You unpinned the veil from your hair and let it droop to the floor. He reeled you in and kissed you again, hungry and demanding. His palms cupped your rear through all the layers of the dress.

There were no excuses to stop either of you now. There was nowhere else for you to be. No one would judge you for looking less than chaste, either. It was only you and him, husband and wife.

His breath puffed against your lips as he whispered, "Would you like to see our bedroom?"

Your first instinct was to ask him about the third floor, but you didn't want to distract him anymore. You'd heard the first time hurt, and it scared you, but you couldn't run away from marital relations forever. It was part of your duties as a wife.

You'd hesitated too long, though, and Abe straightened. His hands rested at your waist.

"Do you not want...?"

_"No!"_ You shook your head. "I-I mean, _yes._ I love you—so very much. I..."

He held your cheek. "No need to fret, my love."

"I'm not, I swear." You girded yourself. "I want to. _I want you."_

You'd never said that before. You'd never wanted anyone before. No one made you feel like he did—all squirmy and exhilarated and uncontrollably wet between your legs.

When he didn't move, you urged him to kiss you again. Then his lips were on yours. Between kisses, he assured you he'd be gentle, he'd go slow.

"Anything," he panted. "Anything you want."

"Just you. I just want you."

He groaned and nuzzled under your jaw. Slowly, he began to sway in a rhythm you didn't recognize. He put one arm behind your waist to move you with him, his other hand found the narrow keyhole opening at the upper back of your dress. He touched you skin on skin as he kissed your neck. You grinned and went with him, holding his shoulders.

He shuffled backwards, taking you with him. He continued out of the room and turned so he faced the hall. He hummed a jaunty tune as he playfully moved side to side before continuing down the hall.

You smiled. "Where are you dancing me to, Mr. Parnassus?"

"To our bedroom, Mrs. Parnassus," he purred.

"And what do you plan on doing in there?"

"I'm going to love my wife." He stopped at the first door from the sunroom and met your eyes. "And I'm going to do so until she forgets herself."

Your stomach swooped, but not from nervousness.

He asked, "Will you let me?"

You wet your bottom lip and nodded. Nothing he did with you ever felt bad. Wicked, yes. Addictive, certainly. But never bad. And if anything felt bad, you knew he'd stop.

He kissed you once more, this time filthy and lewd. Next to you, the door popped open. You clung to him with a mewl as you tried to return his passion. It seemed like you succeeded because he moaned and picked you up. One of your legs curled around his hip on instinct. He gripped it under the thigh, walked you into the bedroom, and kicked the door closed behind him.

A single lamp by the double bed illuminated the plain room. The walls were alpine blue and clashed horribly with the mellow green bedspread. Abe stopped at the side of the bed and released you.

"Shall I help you with your dress, Mrs. Parnassus?" he offered.

"Yes, please."

You turned your back to him and undid the couple of buttons at your nape. The keyhole in the illusion at your upper back slackened. Gentle fingers parted it further, and plush lips kissed your nape.

He murmured, "So many buttons."

"My apologies, Mr. Parnassus."

"No, you're worth the effort, my love."

He kissed your nape again and made quick work of the small satin-covered buttons going down your back. Once finished with them, he spread the fabric and smoothed the bodice off your shoulders. You slid your arms out of the long satin sleeves and stood there with only the long-line bustier covering your torso.

Abe ran his knuckles down your bare back. "I've never seen so much of you at once."

You bent your head with a grin. He was going to see much, much more if he kept going.

He kissed your shoulder as his hands followed the sweep of the bustier up your ribs. He stopped at the top, his fingertips just touching the underwire of the bustier cups. You didn't know if it was proper to guide his hands further.

Before you could decide either way, he said, "Let's get this dress off you."

Together, you drew the dress over your head. You kicked off your pumps and turned to face him. The wood floor was cool under your stocking feet. Your fluffy crinoline brushed his slacks. He dropped the dress as his eyes danced over your new, matching undergarments.

Feeling bold, you shimmied the crinoline down your hips and stepped out of it. That left you exposed, but you'd brazen through it. No man had ever seen any of your underwear—though Abe had definitely touched them.

You stared at the pearl buttons of his shirt and reminded yourself to keep breathing.

"I appear overdressed."

You grinned with a silent laugh and met his gaze. His eyes seemed to eat you up, touch you anywhere they landed. You didn't need to hide from him or cover the triangle of underwear between the bustier's garter stays. You wanted him to see you.

"Help your husband undress, darling."

You stepped closer and tugged his bowtie loose. You pushed the jacket off his shoulders, helped him out of it, and folded it over your crinoline. You unbuttoned his white vest and smoothed it open. You lingered there, feeling the heat of him through the thin cotton of his shirt.

Then you followed the shirt's pleated bib up his chest. Though you'd felt all this before, you were always delighted by his shape, how firm he was—so different than yourself. The artist in you wanted to sculpt him, record his beauty for posterity.

Drawing you away from your musings, he whispered, "You're thinking something."

You shook your head and glanced up. "Just admiring."

He practically preened and cupped your elbows.

You shouldn't delay anymore. He'd been patient for so long. And, you could admit, you've been curious about his body.

You work open the buttons of his shirt. Underneath, his skin is smooth and stomach flat. There is a small cluster of beauty marks on his left pectoral. You have the urge to kiss them. You wonder if that's normal, but don't dwell too long on the thought.

With an easy tug, you pulled his shirt from beneath his waistband. The zipper of his trousers domed, and you hesitated to undo the last shirt button. You knew that was his manhood. You'd felt it when he ground against you. You'd seen the evidence of his arousal before. The difference now was that he was going to put it inside you.

You couldn't think about that right now.

You undid the last button, held his tight waist, and kissed the cluster of beauty marks on his chest. His chest expanded against your lips as his hands went to your back. You kissed up his broad chest until you offered your lips to him.

He kissed you hard as his forearms rubbed against your back. Cufflinks clanked on the floor before he wiggled out of his shirt and vest.

You pulled away to look at his naked torso, and a whine escaped his throat. He was smoothly muscled and appeared strong. His shoulders were as wide and square as his clothes let on. There was a petite mole on his right deltoid.

Abe put his hands on either side of your face and kissed you again. It was dizzying and made you feel squirmy, like your skin wasn't the right size. You couldn't feel enough of him. There were still too many barriers, not enough touch.

You guided his hands from your face to your breasts. He moaned into the kiss and squeezed your breasts. The silky lining of the cups rasped your nipples, feeling delicious. Though, it still wasn't enough.

Why wasn't it enough?

He held your ribs and walked you backwards to the springy-new bed. In return, you clutched at him to pull him down when you sat. He put a knee between yours and arched over you like a great bird of prey.

Together, you tumbled onto the bed, kissing and pawing. He mouthed at your neck, sending delighted chills down your body, and then moved to your chest. He gave you a hungry look before yanking the cups of your bustier down. You gasped as your nipples puckered in the cool air.

"Yes," he hissed and latched onto a nipple.

The wet pull of his mouth shocked you into stillness. It was more intense than you'd imagined. His teeth scraped like a threat, and you loved it. You clutched at his shoulders, his hair, his ears as you whimpered in need.

He moved to the other one, sucking and nibbling. You writhed under him and spread your thighs. He settled over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. Your underwear dipped right into the wetness pooling between your legs. The contact made everything below the waist clench, and your hips jerked involuntarily.

He slithered up your body to kiss you again. His naked chest dragged across your sensitive nipples. His hardness pushed right between your legs, feeling familiar and grounding you.

Between kisses, he murmured, "I can't wait."

You nodded and combed his disheveled hair off his forehead. He smiled—beaming, radiant, and loving—before rearing back and maneuvering you into the middle of the bed. He ran his hands over your body as if memorizing it by feel alone.

You bit your lip, hoping he wouldn't notice how you'd probably soaked through your underwear. He didn't say anything as he lifted one of your legs onto his shoulder. He caressed your thigh with a devious, eager look. He went further until he was brushing your skin, tracing the edge of your stocking. His touch was light yet electric, and you wanted more of it.

He struggled with the garter clip. You assisted, showing him how to slide the rubber button out of the metal loop.

"Show me again."

You lifted your other leg onto his shoulder and steered him through undoing the garter. He hummed as he ran his palms over your thighs.

"Now for the back," he stated with a twinkle in his eyes.

He hooked a hand behind one of your knees and pushed your thigh to your chest. You gasped, because you were spread out before him. He unclipped the garter one-handed. The loose stocking sprung to your knee. You suspected he'd been monkeying around with you.

He unclipped the other garter, braced one hand on the bed, and reached between your legs. You held your breath and fisted the bedspread as he drew teasing circles over the damp fabric. You knew what he could do with his hands, and you wanted that so badly. You wondered if him being inside you would feel just as good.

He stroked the fabric right over your slit as he asked, "Shall I take these off?"

"Yes, please," you whispered.

He reached under the bustier to find the waistband of your underwear. You swallowed and closed your eyes, because this was really happening. He was going to see your nether regions, going to touch them, going to put his manhood inside you.

He eased your underwear down and off before bracing himself once more. You looked between your bodies to see him still clothed from the waist down.

You asked, "What about you?"

"I think it prudent I remain like this for now."

"But..."

He shushed you and lowered himself onto an elbow. "Let me prepare you."

You bit your lip again with a nod, meeting his smoldering eyes.

"Don't be frightened, I won't hurt you."

"I know."

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded again. He kissed you as a reward. His hand followed your inner thigh to the apex, where you _ached._ You placed your hands on his strong shoulders and held your lower body still.

The first touch did nothing to dispel that ache. He explored your wetness, making your belly clench. Then he probed at your opening. He circled it and whispered how hot you were.

"Abe," you whimpered.

He rested his forehead on yours and breathed, "I know."

The finger at your opening pushed in, and your eyes went wide. It didn't hurt—at all. Though it felt strange, it was like your body wanted him inside. He eased his finger deeper and then withdrew. He did it over and over until it didn't feel strange. It only added to this growing heat building in you.

"How about another?"

"Another?"

He rotated his hand to touch that overly sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your sex. He loved touching it, and you secretly craved it. He massaged it as he slipped a second finger inside you. The stretch of it was like the first: strange, yet welcomed.

You couldn't help but move with them. He stroked you inside and out, slowly and thoughtfully. You breathed his name and raised up to kiss him. He caught your lips against his own and kissed you hard. His hips rolled with you, his manhood tucked between his working hand and your undulating hips.

You wanted to undo his slacks to feel all of him. You wanted to see him.

You trembled as your sex clenched with impeding climax. With a moan, you broke the kiss. Abe kissed your jaw.

"Please," you begged.

"What do you need?" he panted. "Tell me."

"I-I don't know!" You added in a whisper, "Feels so good."

His thick fingers were unyielding inside you, pumping in wet squelches. You'd be embarrassed by the noise if it didn't feel so wonderful.

Then he stilled.

You cried out and met his eyes in uncertainty.

"That's three," he whispered.

You glanced down your body, but there was nothing to see. You felt full, which was new, but good, which wasn't with him. Questions popped up one after the other. You wanted to know if that was normal. Was he going to replace his fingers with his hardness? Would it feel different?

"Shall we—"

You nodded.

"—continue?"

He edged his fingers out of you with a devilish grin. He reared back to fully undress, the mattress quaking with the sudden movement. You took the opportunity to pull off your stockings and unhook the bustier's back closure. You tossed the bustier onto the growing pile of clothes, glad to finally be free of all bridal attire.

When Abe faced you, now nude, you gasped. He was beautiful with gently sculpted muscle and elegant proportions. The soft indentation of his iliac furrows at his hips pointed down to his manhood, which stood proud and flushed from his body. It was big—bigger than his fingers. His pubic hair was dark. You were intrigued and wanted to put your hands all over him to learn his unique shape.

As he knee-walked across the bed, you leaned on your elbows and put your feet on either side of him.

"You undo me," he softly said.

Clear fluid dribbled from the tip of his hardness to wet it. You wondered if he ached like you did.

You met his gaze and nodded, because you felt the same. "I love you—so much."

With a smile and a soft _"I love you,"_ he got on his hands to crawl over you. His knees bumped the inside of your legs, and you spread them as you lied back. You reached to caress his chest, but hesitated. Was that too forward?

"Do it, touch me," he implored.

And you did. His skin was hot, chest pink like his cheeks. He was so smooth. The flat planes of his pectorals flexed as he moved closer. You brushed his petite nipples, and his breath caught. It was a delight to find him as sensitive as you. You didn't linger too long—there was more of him to explore.

His abdomen was defined just enough to see muscle. His waist was tight and dipped in on the sides. The curve of muscle under his bellybutton fit nicely in your palms. You traced the iliac indents which had intrigued you so.

"Lower, my love, please."

His manhood hung hard and long between his legs. You'd seen a penis before in Life Drawing, but this was different. Abe, _your husband,_ was hard for you. He wanted to use it to make you both feel good.

You took a breath and lightly wrapped a hand around his manhood. Above you, he gasped. You marveled at its silkiness. It throbbed in your hand. Another bead of clear fluid dripped like syrup from the tip, landing on your belly.

His testicles were tight to his body, and you used your other hand to caress them. They were interesting. You could feel the ovoids in the supple sac and rolled them with your fingers.

Abe moaned, "Mercy, please."

You jerked away with a quick apology. You hadn't meant to hurt him.

"No, you feel too good." He wet his lips and swallowed. "I've been dreaming about you for too long."

"Oh," you breathed before holding his scrunched face. "Don't dream anymore."

He relaxed, looking relieved, and lowered himself until most of his weight rested on you. It felt right to have him against you and to hug him with all your limbs. His hardness pressed into your belly. You didn't know how it was supposed to fit, but obviously it would.

He pushed a hand under your shoulder, held your nape, and kissed you. "Are you ready?" he asked and kissed your jaw. "Will you let me?" He left sucking kisses on your neck as he fondled one of your breasts.

You nodded and bit back a groan. "Yes, please, I can... I want you."

He adjusted his position on top of you and took hold of himself. He nestled right in your wetness, the spongy tip stroked you. Your breath caught, because even that felt good.

He murmured, "Just relax. We'll go slow."

You nodded and willed yourself to go limp on the bed. You wanted to please him, wanted to do your duty as a wife and lover, wanted to know what it felt like to be so intimate with him.

"That's it..."

He found your slick opening and began to ease in. Your muscles yielded to the slow intrusion. Each inch that pushed in felt like more than you could bear. He must've felt a change in your body, because he gave you respite. He rocked his hardness inside you and sweetly shushed you and told you to breathe.

You met his eyes and realized he was as affected as you. You could see the strain in his tight, pinched expression. He glowed with a fine sheen of sweat. He touched your cheek, and you put your hand over his.

You pulled him down for a kiss, taking charge to taste him. A tremor ran through him, and he breathed your name. His hardness sunk in further, slow and steady until his pelvis rested against yours. Your eyes went wide. You felt so full—had never felt anything like it.

Atop you, Abe groaned. You tried to soothe him. You petted his shoulders, spread your hands over his pectorals. With a brush of his nipples, his spine bowed. The movement made him pull out a little. The drag of his hardness deep inside had you gasping in pleasure.

"Tell me, darling—" he said through gritted teeth. "Please, tell me you're ready."

You doubted you'd ever be, but you nodded and pulled him close anyway.

He began slow, rocking in and out. It was heavy and overwhelming and good. Each thrust forced sound out of you. The sawing of his hips sped, and you held onto him. Your sex started to throb in the most delicious way. He was so hot and perfect as he took you.

"Yes?" he asked and shifted.

Something about his shift changed the angle. He dragged over some sensitive _something_ deep inside you, and you _moaned._

"Abe!"

He reached between your bodies before driving deep. He curled around you, and you him. You grabbed his sides as he pressed his fingers against that bundle of nerves at the top of your sex. His erection pistoned faster and faster.

A new tension filled your chest like a swallowed-back sob. It was too much. It felt so good. You writhed under him and hid your face against his throat. His pulse hammered against your cheek.

His grip on your shoulder pinned you in place. The mattress shook under you with each roll of his powerful hips. He used his hold as leverage to pound into you. Between his fingers and pumping hardness, climax ignited. It was just this side of scary. You quaked and moaned, welcoming the fever.

You choked as sudden orgasm seared through you. You dissolved into this thrumming, bright, torturous pleasure. You pulled at Abe, clawed at his skin, begged him for something you couldn't articulate.

As if he understood where you didn't, he kept going. He gave you everything, prolonging your ecstasy until you couldn't think of anything beyond him. He moaned and braced himself on the bed. He filled you so perfectly, branding you from the inside out.

_"Please,"_ you sobbed.

He crashed against you, ramming deep. He brought you down as he moved up. A stuttering sound seemed to come from deep in his chest, and he came with a handful of slow, powerful thrusts. His erection pulsed inside you. His spend filled you as he rocked, so gratifying it surprised you.

Once he stilled, you wrapped your arms and legs around him to hold him tight. He hugged you, murmuring praises and kissing your damp skin. You stuck together, and it should have been gross, but it felt right to be glued together with sweat. Nothing would ever compare to this singular moment.

Abe eased up and smoothed back your hair. He stared at you, studying you with such tenderness. You tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and felt as if your heart would burst with all your love for him. He swooped in to kiss your lips and chin and cheeks.

"My sweet wife," he whispered possessively before rubbing his nose against yours.

You smiled and moved with him. "My precious husband."

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com)


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